


Preamble

by bearonthecouch



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Conversations, Firsts, Gen, Politics, Post-Promised Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 22:12:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15805563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearonthecouch/pseuds/bearonthecouch
Summary: "I still need you, Mustang. One last joint exercise."





	Preamble

**Author's Note:**

> "Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others that have been tried."  
> \- Winston Churchill

“Congratulations.” Roy Mustang raises a flute of champagne in a toasting gesture. His opponent narrows her eyes, and Mustang just shrugs and takes a slow drink.

“Do I have to worry about you, Mustang?” Olivier Armstrong asks him, fire burning in her ice-blue eyes.

“I wanted a democracy. I never said I needed to win.” He sips champagne and squares his shoulders, realizing even as he says it that he _can_ accept this outcome. He trusts Armstrong, respects her. He always has, despite her frequent threats in his direction through their years of East-North rivalry, and then a drawn-out political campaign. “You’re a better leader than I am, anyway,” he says. He thinks he might even mean it.

She shakes her head. “That’s bullshit and you know it. Your men would follow you anywhere.”

“So would yours.”

Armstrong glances at Colonel Miles, who stands several paces away but is still obviously guarding her, just as Hawkeye is tracking Mustang’s every move. She nods, knowing that the Flame Alchemist is right.

“You’re the better politician,” she points out to Mustang. She’s military, through and through. This whole experiment with giving civilians a choice in leadership was his brainchild.

But he just smiles. “Clearly not.”

“People don’t know what they want. You offered them democracy and they picked the highest ranking military officer available.”

“And the one who isn’t a war criminal.”  
  
“Please, Mustang, don’t start with that shit.”

“You promised, Olivier. We have to take a stand on Ishval, make sure people know we don’t condone it. If we want to prove that Amestris is different now, we have to start with this.”

“War trials.”  
  
“Yes.”

“You realize that takes half our leadership out of play. At least half. There’s no one in the military who wasn’t involved in Ishval.”

“There’s you.” She rolls her eyes. Mustang’s idealism can be infuriating sometimes. “And there’s the ones who were too young to fight.”

“Fullmetal.” Roy nods. “You want me to leave the future of the nation up to a college kid and his improvised diplomatic corps?”

“That is exactly what I want you to do.”

“You are fucking _impossible_ , Mustang.”

Armstrong nods in Hawkeye’s direction. The Captain speaks quietly with Miles, and Armstrong finds herself wondering if their conversation is anything like the one she’s having with Mustang. “She know you’re asking me to put you in front of a firing squad?”

“Yeah,” Mustang says, and he is perfectly, unsettlingly serious. “It was her idea, actually.”

“That figures.”

“Will you do it?”

Armstrong doesn’t answer for a long while, and Roy is almost about to remind her that she did _promise_ , but then she opens her mouth and says, “Yes.” Roy breaths out a sigh of relief. “But not yet.” He frowns. “I still need you, Mustang. One last joint exercise.”

They can build an alliance from opposing camps. Offense and Defense, united to become something better than either of them could be alone. The script is a little flipped now, Armstrong being the one arguing for a strong military, Mustang wanting disarmament, or at least reduced force. But the point still stands. Olivier by herself will slip back toward everything Mustang _doesn’t_ want Amestris to be. Her family is too stuck in the old ways, for one. She doesn’t know how to think in any other way. She needs the perspective of her part-Ishvalan, part-Drachman, part-she-doubts-he-even-knows adjutant, and the perspective of a half-Xingese orphan who grew up in a whorehouse (which probably didn’t help his standing in the polls, and that only proves how much Amestris needs people like him).

“You want me as… what? An advisor?”

“Vice President.”

Armstrong can _see_ him toying with the idea. She watches him look over at Hawkeye, sees their eyes meet and sees her slight nod even though there is absolutely no way she can hear the conversation, from where she’s standing.

“Vice President,” he repeats, and she nods. “First in history.”

“So that’s a yes?”

He nods, and finishes the champagne. “Yes.”

"Congratulations, then," she says, nodding toward his empty glass, since she doesn't have one of her own.

Mustang smiles.


End file.
